


Dinner Party

by roanniom



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Foot Fetish, Mentions of alcohol, NSFW, Vaginal Sex, lingerie fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roanniom/pseuds/roanniom
Summary: Charlie buys you new clothes for a dinner party he is putting on and is sure to make good use of your new lingerie.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Kudos: 16





	Dinner Party

Tonight Charlie is putting on a dinner party for a few patrons of the arts that he’d been trying to woo into supporting his company for quite some time. Their availability and interest had come up suddenly, hence the relatively last-minute nature of the event. As you walk hand in hand with Charlie down a street lined with designer shops you bite down on your lip, shifting the bags that dangle from your arm. Truth be told you aren’t used to fancy dinner parties with important people. Which is why when Charlie insisted you be his date tonight your stomach had flipped over the fact that you had nothing appropriate to wear. Mentioning this to Charlie, however, had your entire gastrointestinal system doing gymnastics because he immediately dragged you from your apartment and out on a shopping excursion.

Entering your final stop, a luxury shoe store, you continue chewing on your lower lip as Charlie goes about pointing out options and making suggestions. As he hails a sales attendant you admire the broadness of his shoulders in his fitted sweater. The way his dark waves bounce gently when he glances back at you to confirm a selection with a small smile. He is a beautiful man. A caring, attentive, and generous beautiful man. And not just with his money, but his generosity in the bedroom is not what has you shuffling in place and fidgeting right now.

You’d protested heartily at the start of this shopping trip when Charlie first pulled out his black credit card. You’re a strong person, fully capable of paying for your own things without handouts or charity. Were you capable of paying for that particular off the shoulder dress in your favorite color that made you, in Charlie’s words, “put Grace Kelly to shame”? No. But you didn’t want Charlie looking at you like you were some sugar baby only interested in him for his money.

Charlie was quick to silence these concerns, however, reminding you that he’d recently had several successful projects come to their conclusion and things with the theater were better than ever.

“And besides, it makes me really happy to be able to give you something,” he’d added bringing your hand up so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You give me things all the time,” you’d protested, smiling in spite of yourself. Your next statement was muttered as you looked away shyly. “I just want you.”

Charlie had grabbed your jaw and pulled you into a deep kiss, deep enough for your toes to curl and for you to thank the heavens that the woman ringing you up had stepped into the back room to retrieve a garment bag for your new purchase.

When Charlie pulled away, he chuckled over the fact that it took you a few seconds to open your eyes, still holding out hope that he would lean in and give you another kiss. When you did open your eyes he pressed a kiss to your forehead before stepping behind you and encircling your waist with his arms sweetly but more appropriately for the boutique setting, giving a genial nod to the cashier who had just popped back into the room. In your ear, however, he whispered.

“You’re going to let me buy you a bunch of pretty things. You’re going to wear these pretty things tonight and all of those rich people will know you’re the hottest creature on the face of the earth.” Your breathing hitched in response. A glance around told you nobody was paying you two any mind, but Charlie wasn’t done. “You’ll dazzle everyone with your charm and your wit though because you’re not just a pretty face in pretty things.”

A shiver passed through your body and Charlie must have felt it because he went on.

“And then, once everyone goes home, I’ll rip those pretty things off your body and fuck you like the goddess you are.”

His words ring in your ears now and you swallow thickly from your perch on a low seat, waiting for the saleswoman to bring you a pair of shoes to try on. When the woman comes bearing a black, matte shoebox, Charlie reaches for it and waves her off kindly. It is Charlie who kneels before you, lifting your leg to pull your foot from its current shoe before placing it delicately into an expensive heel. He fastens the ankle strap but his fingers linger, circling the bone of your ankle and smoothing over the bridge of your foot.

Glancing past your foot you notice, to your surprise, a bulge beginning to form in Charlie’s lap. From his kneeled position in front of you nobody else would be able to see, but you’re able to see it quite well from this vantage point. You say nothing but keep your eyes on Charlie’s growing erection as he carefully repeats his motions with the other heel. His hands cup your calves as he appraises them before he guides you to stand and test how they feel.

The fit is perfect and the style is even better. Though the heels are not exactly something you’d know to pick out, they are somehow inherently you. The best version of you. You turn back to Charlie, whose eyes had been roaming over your body in the mirror as you’d taken tentative steps in front of it, pointing your toe and taking a look at all angles. When your eyes meet Charlie quirks his head inquisitively and you nod shyly.

“We’ll take them,” he says.

~*~

When you get back to Charlie’s apartment a short while later you lay your fine new things out on the bed, staging them for later. The dinner party isn’t for a few more hours and it will be catered, so not much more is required until then. You pad out in a loose lounge set to find Charlie in the kitchen sampling and selecting wine for tonight. You stop in the doorway, not announcing your presence just yet so you can watch him swirl a tiny amount of burgundy liquid around the bowl of a glass.

You hadn’t been dating very long. There was still so much newness. You wanted Charlie and you wanted him all the time. This was unlike any other relationship you’d had before and if you were honest with yourself it scared you a bit how much you seemed to need him. Charlie seemed to feel the exact same way, which quelled your fears a bit. It made your stomach flip when he begged you to stay instead of returning to your own apartment, even after being together for days. It was too early for him to ask you to move in with him, you both knew that, but you could tell he was chomping at the bit. He kept stealing an item or two of yours each time you stayed over, only for you to find it carefully put away among his things later, as if he’s slowly trying to make it so that you never have to leave.

He looks up now and gives you a dazzling smile. It makes your heart, and other places, clench.

“Hello, beautiful. Come here and tell me which is better,” he says, pointing to the two glasses in front of him. When you walk over he grabs you by the hips and hoists you to sit on the counter, a sudden action which makes you laugh. He crowds into your space, pulling your knees apart to step between your legs, and lifts a glass to your lips, having you lean your head back to drink the wine.

You could easily have drunk from the glass yourself, but his hand on he back of your neck and the way he’s holding the glass for you feels so intimate, you wind your legs around his body to hold him closer. He offers you the second one – each taste no more than a sip that you swirl around on your tongue as if you know what you’re talking about.

“The second one is sweeter. I like it,” you say definitively. Usually you’d feel self-conscious about making such a choice, but the way Charlie nods and goes to put the other bottle away makes you feel heard, makes you feel good.

When he returns to his place between your legs Charlie is unhurried. His hand splays out over your lower stomach and rubs back and forth as he arrests your mouth in a deep kiss. His other hand caresses your hip and thigh, making you widen your legs so he can press against you further. A question pops up into your head, lazy at first, but then more insistent as your curiosity grows. You pull away, breathless.

“Do you have a foot fetish?”

“What?” Charlie asked, clearly puzzled. You squirm under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s okay if you do. I’m only asking because I want to do whatever you need.” You’re speaking very quickly, almost stumbling over your words. “I want to make you feel good.”

He gave you an inquisitive look, waiting for you to continue.

“I saw you…got hard in the shoe store. When you were helping me try on the heels.”

Understanding dawned on Charlie’s face, followed by an incredulous laugh. You tried to continue but Charlie brought up a finger to your lips, first in a shushing manner and then as a light caress, tracing your bottom lip back and forth in a way that mesmerized you. His other hand moved along your hip, your waist, the curve of your ass, as though trying to come in contact with as much of you as possible.

“First of all,” he says, voice quiet as it fans over your face. “You always make me feel good, so we don’t need to worry about that, now do we?”

You exhale then, not even aware that you had been holding your breath. The hand at your face migrates down to trace the outline of your jaw and neck.

“Second of all, I wouldn’t say that I have a foot fetish,” Charlie muses, humor in his eyes. “I’d say your whole body is my fetish.”

You let out a sound that you don’t recognize – a cross between a whimper and a moan – and Charlie’s eyes grow darker still.

“And third of all,” he continues, dragging his finger under your chin to pull you up and make your eyes meet without the possibility of looking away. “I didn’t get hard in the shoe store.”

You go to contradict him but he leans down then to lavish your neck with sucking kisses that pull more whimpering moans from your throat. When he nibbles up to your ear he speaks again, his voice impossibly deeper. “I’ve been hard since the lingerie store.”

At that moment he presses his hips into you, allowing you to feel the insistent hardness of his cock through his slacks.

Your chest heaves with arousal and you feel it drip into every crevice of your being. Charlie looks up to find your eyes desire-dark, but where he thought you’d be shy, overwhelmed as usual, he sees you have a satisfied smirk.

“What?” he asks, an answering smile tugging at his lips. You don’t say anything. Instead you pull the slouchy neck of your shirt down over your shoulder to reveal a glimpse of your new light pink bra. Expensive and ethereal and see-through, hugging your breast like a gauzy cloud of cotton candy that he wants to devour. Wants to melt onto his tongue to let the sweetness of you pour down his throat.

“Oh dear god,” he exclaims quietly, needing a second to center himself. You’re pleased by his reaction. The way he covers your bra-clad breast entirely with his hand almost as if he needs to block it from view to keep himself from cumming simply at the sight. His pelvis mashes against yours and you shift on the counter so that his cock manages to press some friction into your aching center, despite the layers of clothes between you two.

You knew about Charlie’s lingerie kink. He was always dressing you up in beautiful things. Sometimes delicate, sometimes structured, always intoxicating. And that’s how Charlie always seemed when he saw you in those beautiful things. Intoxicated.

Charlie finally removes his hand to reveal the bra again, now yanking the neckline of your shirt all the way open to that it falls off your shoulders – off your body – completely, pooling down by your feet. You’re not sure if it had been that wide to begin with or if he ripped it in the process but you really couldn’t care less because you were warm under the weight of Charlie’s hungry stare as he drank you in.

“You naughty girl, this is supposed to be for later,” he hummed, tracing a finger from the delicate strap to your collar bone.

“I wanted to break it in,” you reply, breathless.

“So you wanted me to ravish you in it before the party?” Charlie yanks at your lounge shorts then, lifting you up enough from that counter to pull them off your body while you gasp. When you don’t respond he leans in and presses kisses to your cheek, running his hand up and down your lace-clad mound. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage.

“So not just naughty.” Charlie’s kisses trail down your neck and to the swell of your breasts before latching onto your nipple through the fabric, biting down to the chorus of your yells. When he pulls off his hand begins massaging your clit in earnest through the now wet fabric. “Someone’s on their way to being a bad girl tonight.”

Bad girl.

Charlie calling you that could only mean one thing – an absolutely mind-blowing orgasm.

You don’t wait. You grapple with his belt expertly and rip open the button on his pants, yanking down his zipper to free the prize awaiting inside. You lick your lips and move to slide off the counter but Charlie stops you, holding you by your hips.

“No.”

“I want to suck your cock,” you say, trying to keep the pout from forming. A new wave of desire ripples across his face, just like the new wave of slick now dousing your pretty new panties.

“Not now, sweetheart. We don’t want your little knees all bruised for the dinner party tonight, do we?” His hand slides down your leg, squeezing your calf before rounding on your knee, gliding across your thigh and cupping your cunt through the fabric with a squeeze. “Or does the bad girl want everyone to know what she does to please Daddy?”

The full-throated moan you let out only has a second to sound before it’s swallowed up by the kiss you tackle him in. Charlie had never called himself “Daddy” before, and before now you yourself hadn’t been sure how you’d felt about that name in a sexual context. But here on his counter, getting lavished by his hands, his lips, his tongue beside the wine he was going to serve at a dinner party later that night, the walls of your cunt contracted tightly issuing their approval.

It’s you who initiates the next step, no longer capable of waiting.

“Inside me, now,” you manage to get out as you push your panties to the side and take his cock in hand, guiding it closer. Charlie obliges, taking over, replacing your hand on his cock to line himself up just in time to spear into you. You work to relax the muscles that seize as he pushes deeper, opening you up on him.

“That’s a good girl,” Charlie intones. You let out a breathless laugh that catches on a moan.

“I thought I was b-bad,” you hiccup, his thrusts becoming more even, more piercing. “Naughty?”

“So bad for prancing around all day looking like walking sex,” Charlie grunts with a particularly hard thrust. There’s humor in his voice beneath the aggression and affection spills out of your aching heart. “Good for wrapping yourself up like I present for me to unwrap.”

“Yes I – oh god.” The words are off your lips and out of your mind before they can fully form. No clever reply takes its place as Charlie recaptures your mouth with his. One hand yanks the bra down just enough so that your breasts spill out of the cups, nipples pert and jutting up against the rim. Charlie’s hand closes around the whole thing – exposed tit and hollow cup combined – moaning into your mouth.

His other hand migrates from your hip which it had been using for leverage and begins working your clit, reaching through the same abused leg hole of your panties which is been stretched and moved aside to make way for his pummeling strokes.

You cum in record time, crashing down around Charlie and screaming right there in the kitchen. Chanting out praise and curses and thanks that echo off the tasteful interior and no doubt spill into the rest of the apartment, maybe even out into the hallway.

Charlie takes his time, however. He tastes every part of you he can reach from this angle. He grips and gropes you through the fabric of your abused lingerie until he too is wracked with shakes. Charlie finally pulls out and hastily smooths your panties into place while he fucks his throbbing cock with his fist a few last times. When he cums, it spurts out hot and sticky ally over your jutting tits, the cups of your bra, and the front of your soaked panties. He kisses you then, hard and long, while his cum slides down your body to collect with your own between the legs on the counter.

“I can’t wear this tonight, you know,” you murmur as he kisses you sweetly on the side of the neck. Your eyes are closed and a big smile splits your face as you bask in the glow of your jellified muscles. “Not now anyway.”

“Guess I’m the one whose been bad now,” Charlie says with a chuckle that lights your insides on fire anew despite your current sense of satiation.

“I can just wear the green set,” you muse, mind finally flitting to the other things you’ll have to get ready for the impending event. Namely, sanitizing the hell out of the kitchen counter.

“May I make a request?” Charlie asks and you finally open your eyes to take him in. Still pretty much fully clothed but entirely disheveled and with a goofy grin on his face that makes him seem much younger and more carefree.

“Of course,” you say, eager to do whatever Charlie wants in the lingerie department. “Which set would you prefer?”

Charlie leans into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before whispering.

“None.”

~*~

The dinner party is a wonderful success, full of hobnobbing and elbow-rubbing and all that jazz. Charlie was right – you are the bell of the ball. The men are impressed by your intelligent and witty conversation, because they are, after all, men. Small minded enough to be caught off guard by the smart things of which they’d previously deemed women incapable. Not Charlie, of course. Charlie stands by your side taking you in, watching you in your element, entirely proud and entirely unsurprised.

The women gush over your beautiful dress and you find yourself smoothing your fingers over your nipples when nobody is looking to keep them from staying hard in the slight chill. Charlie is always looking, however. The repeated pressure on your nipples and the gaze Charlie kept capturing you with over the rim of your glass kept you wound tight all night, ready to explode by the time things were winding down and people began saying their goodbyes.

When the front door shut for the final time, Charlie turns back to you with a dark smile, grabbing a fistful of your skirt and pulling you to him slowly.

“How did I do tonight?” you ask playfully, flattening your palms across his broad chest. He hums and leans to kiss you, but not before he answers.

“You were very good.”

~*~


End file.
